


Aftermath

by Onehelluvapilot



Series: Afterwards [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: But he's trying, Gen, He gets several, Kes Dameron is a Good Dad, Kes Dameron is everyone's dad, Leader Poe, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Poe is like the protective older brother, Poe is not ready to be responsible, Poe-centric, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Responsible Poe, Sleepovers, Tired Poe, Yavin 4, if you couldn't tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: After the events of The Last Jedi, the Resistance needs a safe place to rest and regroup. Basically, they have a sleepover, during which one pilot (guess who) doesn't get a chance to get much rest.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Wookieepedia has not yet been updated with the events of The Last Jedi, so some references are made to characters who I'm not sure are alive.  
> Also, I have no idea what the Dameron house looks like, so I'm imagining it as a typical two story (plus attic) little farm house.

Most of the remaining members of the Resistance found some quiet corner of the Falcon to sleep or grieve as soon as the First Order ships disappeared from view. There were few enough people that they all fit on the Corellian freighter, but too many for there to be much privacy. The remaining leadership, plus Finn, Rey, and Chewbacca, all managed to gather in the cockpit. Leia took her familiar copilot seat, and Poe couldn't believe these were the circumstances where he ended up sitting in the pilot's seat of the Millennium Falcon.

“So where can we go?” Finn asked the question they were all thinking but weren't brave enough to voice. He leaned against the doorway, looking more tired than someone his age had any right to be. The First Order jacket hung off his shoulders, unfitting.

“Ahch-To,” Rey suggested from the other side of the frame. “Snoke got the location out of me, but Kylo killed him before he told anyone else.” Poe shrugged away the memory her words brought up to concentrate on the task at hand.

“And neither us nor the First Order could find it without the map before,” he added approvingly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“What does it have for resources?” Leia asked, eliciting a wince from Rey.

“Uh, more of these fat fluffy things,” she said, gesturing towards Chewie. The Wookie thankfully understood that she meant the porg sitting on his shoulder and not him. If he hadn't, Rey might have continued in the Jedi tradition of losing their hands. “That's about it. It's uninhabited for the most part, except for the caretakers. The only buildings are the dwelling units, which are just tiny stone huts. It’s mostly water; there’s just a few small rocky islands.” Which had been incredible for someone who had spent her entire life surrounded by seas of sand.

“Well, that might work for a very temporary hideout then, but not for a base,” Poe sighed, collapsing back into his chair. Finn was beginning to realize that the pilot was the kind of person whose entire body conveyed his emotions. When he was happy, which was improbably often, his movements were as energetic and relaxed as a slinky, his entire body open. When he was nervous, he was hunched and tight, a spring coiled too tightly. When he was tired, like now, you could see it in his drooping shoulders and smile.

“We need a place with resources,” Leia started outlining planetary requirements. “Solid buildings, a place to refuel, adequate food and water, with either no one or an extremely pro-rebel popula-”

“I got it!” Poe said with a snap, making honest to god finger guns. Finn didn't know where the energy that flooded back into him had come from as he jumped to his feet. “Where's the last place the First Order would look?” No one offered up an answer, which is how he wanted it anyway, so he could explain. “A known rebel base.”

“I swear to the Maker if you say Hoth-” Finn threatened. He'd heard about the great Imperial victory on the ice planet. It was one of the only parts of the war that wasn't censored among the ranks of the First Order. It didn’t sound pleasant back then, and as far as he could tell, most of the structures there had collapsed under heavy fire.

“Yavin 4,” Leia guessed. Her captain nodded.

“A lot of the people there are former Rebels or allies themselves, so at the very least no one is likely to turn us in. My dad will help, and probably others too. We have enough room for everyone on the farm if some people don't mind sleeping bags.”

Both Rey and Finn looked at Poe with surprise at the mention of his father. The idea of having parents who would take care of them was just so alien to the stormtrooper and the abandoned scavenger.

Leia sighed. “It would be nice to see Kes again. I'm not so sure that the FO won't think to search there, but set a course until we come up with any better ideas.”

“Yes sir,” Poe agreed immediately, plopping back down in the chair and spinning around. Chewie was silent, so he took that to meant that he was trusted and allowed to fly the famous ship. He handled her almost reverently at first, before he realized she was actually hell to control and needed a strong grip.

“Everyone else, get some rest,” Leia continued. “We have a long road ahead of us.” She nodded to dismiss them, and they all went to go find somewhere mildly comfortable to sit or lie.

“You should get some rest too,” Poe suggested to Leia. Rey had told him that Luke had let himself go into the Force after his battle with Kylo Ren, and with losing Han earlier, Poe was worried about his general. “I’ll throw anyone out of a bunk if you need a mattress.”

“I may be an old woman, Poe, but I’m not that feeble. I'll rest better here. Don't you worry about me. That's not your job.” The silence hung unusually heavy and uncomfortable between them. The muffled sounds of sobs could be heard from somewhere on the Falcon.

“... what is my job?” he asked finally. “I feel like rank doesn't matter very much right now, but I'd like to know where I stand.”

“You're my right hand man Poe,” Leia said. Her eyes fell closed against the blue glow of hyperspace. “You can be anything you want to be.”

Within just a few minutes Poe and a few of the porgs were the only ones left awake. No one had a chance to get much rest though, as the (kind of rough) exit from hyperspace woke everyone not long later. Usually it was a longer journey, but in the ship that had made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs, it was barely an hour. Poe navigated them expertly through the atmosphere and set them down next to the Force-sensitive tree in his backyard.

A man had seen them landing and now stood waiting at his back door, hands clenched in fear and anticipation. His son rushed from the cockpit to make sure he was the first one out of the ship. As a military man himself as well as the father of one, Kes knew that people arriving from the Resistance was most likely bad news, especially if it was Leia and Han come to tell him. Poe wanted to spare him that moment of panic.

“Papá!” He called, and his father let out a breath.

“Mijo,” Kes muttered as he pulled his son tight into a hug after the two men smashed into each other, and buried his face in his shoulder. “How long do you have leave for?”

“I’m not on leave,” he explained, pulling back reluctantly.

“Please tell me you’re not AWOL.”

“No, of course not. I brought the Resistance with me.” He turned to gesture back at the ship, which Leia was exiting at the head of a column of haggard fighters.

“You mean part of it, right?” Kes asked, but the look in his eyes said he knew what his son had meant what he said. He hadn’t had contact with Poe since before Starkiller, which he’d only heard rumors of. He knew the tides could turn quickly in a war, but how had it gotten so bad so fast?

“This is all there is left,” Poe said, his face falling into somber determination. This was as small as it was ever going to get, he promised himself; he’d make sure nothing happened to make it shrink any farther. Leia had to nudge him out of the way with her cane when she reached the Damerons.

“Princess,” he greeted her with a bow.

“It’s General now, Kes,” she corrected. “But there’s no need for such formality. We both know you’re retired. I know you wanted out of this life, but I’m afraid we’re in dire need of assistance.”

“You have full access to everything I have for as long as you need it,” he offered before she officially asked for anything. “And can I reenlist, or am I too old?” His hair might have been more salt than pepper, but he still stood with a soldier’s stance. Plus, they needed every man they could get.

“We would be honored to have you,” she replied genuinely. “If you can stand having your son as your commanding officer.”

He laughed. “He’s been that since he was born.” Standing next to them silently, Poe blushed.

“Well, he’s growing into a fine leader,” Leia said, addressing the younger Dameron as much as the older. He awkwardly met her gaze. Despite his apparent ego, he was a lot better at taking criticism than compliments. There was something to be learned from criticism. “In light of this, I was thinking that it might be easier for me to step back and let you two handle general operations here for the time being.” They could all see how much she was leaning on her cane.

“Of course,” Poe agreed. “Beebee, could you lead the General to the guest room?” The droid quickly warbled an affirmative and started rolling towards the house at a pace that the elderly woman could match. The pilot turned back to his father, who squared his shoulders as if he was about to step back into battle. He was still ready for anything the Empire or now the First Order might throw at him, which, in this case, was a bedraggled group of hungry, tired soldiers. “So, we need to find places for about thirty people to sleep, and turn up some food for all of them too.” He was pretty sure that most of them hadn’t eaten since the evacuation of D’qar. “A few stiff drinks wouldn't go amiss either.”

“Only thirty…” Kes mumbled under his breath, still shocked. He snapped out of it pretty fast. “Right. The camping supplies are in the attic and the emergency supplies, and this feels like one, are down in the basement. Who here is a decent cook?” Poe looked over the assembled crowd and winced.

“Uh, no one really. Rey hasn't had much experience with food, but she seems pretty competent overall, so she might be your best bet,” the pilot said, making eye contact with the young woman and waving her over. No one had tended to the slice on her arm yet, he noticed. Add that to the ever growing to-do list. Finn came with the young Jedi, which wasn’t surprising, given how his first words after waking up had been to ask for her. “Dad, these are Finn and Rey, who have both saved my life. Guys, this is my father, Kes.” Neither Dameron missed the wide eyed looks of wonder coming off the two. Poe was once again reminded of how young they both were, and how inexperienced outside of the narrow fields of scavenging and fighting.

“I-it’s an honor Mr. Dameron,” Finn fumbled with his words first, seizing and shaking his hand vigorously.

“Please call me Kes. Anyone who has saved my son’s life has earned the right to call me by my first name, or by anything they wish for that matter.”

“Thank you sir,” Rey said, eliciting a wince.

“Anything except sir,” he amended. “C’mon, I could use your help in the kitchen.” He led her back into the house.

“Poe, is there a place where Rose could lie down?” Finn asked after they’d gone. “The bunks of the Falcon aren’t very comfortable, and I think she jarred her back during the landing.”

“Yeah, of course,” the pilot agreed. Han probably could have set the ship down more gently. “Can you carry her by yourself?” Finn shook his head. His own back was still recovering, and the strenuous activity of the past twenty four hours had not helped. “Okay, can she wait a bit then? I want to get some other stuff started.” Without waiting for an answer, he left Finn standing there as he jogged back to the main group of people. “Iolo, can you take a few people and go get the sleeping mats and bags from the attic? You just go straight in and all the way up the the stairs. They should be in the far left corner. You can start getting those set up in the living room, which is just back down the stairs and to the right.”

Finn watched as Poe expertly divided up roles and locations, with most people retrieving more supplies from various parts of the house or, for the really exhausted, just told where to sit down. A trusted old technician was sent to man the bar, Chewie was assigned to take stock of the Falcon’s condition (though that was what he was probably going to do anyway, with or without instruction), and a nurse went to check on Leia and attend to Rey. Poe kept the only remaining medic with him to help with Rose. R2 went with Chewie, and within two minutes C3PO was the only one left without a job.

“We can put Rose in my old room,” Poe announced, grabbing one side of the blanket they had decided to carry her on. Though he always felt weak and pathetic when he was forced to ride on one, he now realized how useful gravstretchers could be. Finn and the medic took the other side of the sheet and they carried her as gently as possible to his room, which was unfortunately on the second floor. The commander realized as he was doing it that it probably would have been easier to get Chewie to carry her, or have Rey use the Force. There were a lot of things he could have done more effectively or efficiently, and a lot of things that still had to be done. They managed to get her up the stairs with a minimal amount of jostling, through which she remained asleep. The medic began checking on her once they set her down on the bed.

“Oh, uh, wow,” Finn said when he looked up and actually saw the room Poe had grown up in. The pilot glanced up at his walls and ceiling and cringed at the dozens of posters of ships and famous pilots. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and his mother Shara Bey were all featured prominently beside the Falcon, A wings, Y wings, X wings of course, and even TIES, because even though they were used by the Empire, they were feats of engineering. A shot of the Green Squadron complete with their ships and astromechs from before the Battle of Endor hung above his headboard. He’d forgotten about all of these.

“It was a phase,” Poe explained. Finn didn't need to know that he still hadn't grown out of it, only gained a bit more tact about displaying it. Commanders couldn’t be fanboys.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just… Troopers weren’t allowed to modify our barracks in any way.”

“Oh.” That was… either awful or great. It would be extremely dull, but then again, they didn't have the chance as a teenager to embarrass their future selves with their taste in wall decor. Finn sat down on the bed by Rose’s feet, and Poe next to him. He only had a moment of rest, as a few seconds his father called for him from the kitchen. 

“Gotta go,” the pilot said with a half hearted smile of farewell. His vision went dark around the edges for a second as he stood up, but he shook his head and walked it off. “What do you need Papá?”

“Could you go get some potatoes from the garden?”

Between helping his father and Rey in the kitchen (because even though they were just making a simple stew, two people was not enough to cook a meal in a timely enough manner for thirty starving people), finding a place for everyone to settle down, fetching three trips worth of blankets from the linen closet upstairs (thank the Maker Shara had gained an affinity for quilting after she quit the Resistance), mixing drinks for those who obviously needed them, and running half a dozen other assorted errands, it was an hour before he had a chance to pause and lean against the kitchen counter. Kes shoved a bowl and spoon into his hands.

“Who am I taking these to?” he asked with a sigh, standing up as straight as he could manage and preparing his aching back for playing delivery boy some more.

“Yourself, mi hijo,” the older man said, pulling out a chair and gently pushing the pilot down into it. 

“I still need to go take inventory of our-” he began to protest.

“You need to eat and rest,” the older man countered. “Beebee tells me that you haven’t slept in twenty four hours, and the boy that you said saved your life-”

“Finn. He defected and rescued me from the First Order,” Poe cut in. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew it was important that his dad know about Finn.

“Finn says he saw you almost pass out and fall down the stairs,” Kes finished. “Even Leia went to sleep an hour ago. Just because you’re leadership doesn’t mean you can’t take time to take care of yourself. It’s the opposite in fact. The Resistance needs you now more than ever, and it needs you in good health. You’re of no use to anyone if you’re falling asleep on your feet. So, Poe Dameron, eat your kriffing soup, change out of that filthy jacket, and go to bed. There’s space on the floor of your room with Finn.” Kes used his parent/sergeant voice, and even though Poe outranked him now, it had been programmed into him (gently, with cookies and conversations, not like what had been done to Finn) from a young age to listen when his father sounded like that.

“Yes sir,” he mumbled around the spoon and a mouthful of soup (his mother's recipe), realizing suddenly that he actually was really hungry, and completely exhausted. He'd been running on adrenaline and caf since the assault on the Dreadnought, and that was fading fast. He finished the bowl in a few minutes, under his father's watchful gaze when he wasn't washing dishes. “Goodnight Papá,” he muttered as he stood up slowly. He let his father pull him into another embrace, hand carding up through his tangled, engine grease covered hair.

“I'll see you in the morning, mi hijo,” he whispered back. Poe leaned a little against the banister as he made his way up the stairs to his old room. Rose was on his bed, still unconscious beneath his commemorative blanket from the fall of the Empire. He was no medic, but that probably wasn't a good sign. Finn was sitting up in a sleeping bag on the floor next to her, with a pallet already made up for Poe on his far side.

“Where's Rey?”

“She's sleeping out in the backyard,” he replied. “Said something about a magic tree.”

“We have a remnant of the Force sensitive tree from the Jedi temple on Coruscant,” Poe explained. “A gift from Luke Skywalker to my mother.” The pilot sat down on the thick pile of blankets, wincing at the ache in his ribs. Finally without a task or anything to occupy his thoughts, he was starting to feel all the bruises and scrapes of the last few days. He'd forgotten that he'd been thrown twenty feet onto durasteel by an explosion until he realized he couldn't move his arms enough to get his sleeves off.

“Can you-” Poe started to ask but didn't have to finish the question as he felt Finn’s hands around the fabric in his shoulders helping strip off his leather jacket.

“You okay?”

“Better than I could expect to be after that hangar blast,” he said. He was the only person who had survived it. This is why he liked working on things like the first part of the attack on the Dreadnought. If you were alone, there was no survivor's guilt. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

“You should go to the medic about those,” Finn said when he saw the awful bruises around Poe’s ribcage. “They might be broken.”

“He’s asleep,” the pilot replied. “And I think they’re only cracked at the worst. How’s Rose?” He had frequently worked with her on Black One and even on BB once when he’d fried a major circuit. She was a skilled technician and a good person.

“The medic said she has a bad concussion and a broken arm, which he set and cast as best he could. She was awake for a little while earlier,” he told his friend as he lay down. Poe wadded up some out the blanket under his ribs to cushion them before he followed suit. “I did this to her. By defying your clearly common sense orders, I was set to get myself killed, and she got hurt saving me.”

“She’ll be alright,” Poe assured him. Unlike the people he'd gotten killed with his own mutiny. “If you want someone to criticize you for disobeying, go talk to Leia, because I can't.” Not when he'd done the same thing, twice, with worse consequences. He might’ve been the only one to get hurt during the dispute itself, but the time it had wasted had resulted in at least three transports being destroyed that might otherwise have survived. “We all make mistakes, and yours are a lot less egregious than most. The only thing you can do is try to do better next time.”

“Isn't there some old Jedi adage about trying not being enough?” Finn muttered.

“That message is as backwards as its grammar,” Poe replied, sending the last reserves of his energy into his vehemence. “All we can do is try. Try our hardest and hope it's enough.”

“It will be,” Finn assured him. This conversation kept switching between hope and despair so that it was hard to tell who was comforting who anymore. “With your leadership, the Resistance will survive.”

The commander wanted to groan and hide his head under the blankets. All he had wanted to do when he joined the Resistance was jump in an X wing and blow something up, and that was still all he wanted to do. But that wasn't what was required of him any more, not to mention the fact that Black One and all the other fighter ships were gone. He felt less ready for the responsibility of leadership than he had in a long time. A thought popped into his head, too horrible to even consider saying aloud, that ‘at least there aren’t a lot of people left to be disappointed in me when I fail’. If he let down even one person, that would be too many, especially if it was Finn or Leia or Rey or his father. He didn't say any of this aloud, because Finn, who was barely more than a teenager and would still be finding his way in the galaxy even if he hadn't gotten pulled into all this craziness, didn't need anything more lumped on his plate. Poe’s anxiety must have shown in his face though, despite his efforts, as the ex stormtrooper kept talking.

“It won't just survive,” he said. And because he was Finn, still getting used to life out from under a mask and still unclear as to how much physical contact was appropriate, he reached out. He miscalculated the move in the dark, and accidentally poked Poe in the eye before his warm palm came to rest on his cheek, thumb trailing over the tender spot where Leia had slapped him. “It'll thrive. I haven't been in the Resistance long, but you guys seem like champions at rebuilding. I mean, you fixed me, when the First Order would have left me to bleed out in the snow. Tomorrow we’ll follow you to rebuilding everything that we've lost.”

“Okay,” Poe agreed with a nod that made Finn’s hand brush against his nose.“Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback, especially constructive criticism about my characterization so I can make it better in future fics.


End file.
